Suffocation
by jsandoz
Summary: Maybe they were suffocating each other and he couldn't breathe." Set during 6x03 Bite Me. Grissom has some explaining to do. GSR


**AN: Unfortunately, the things that pop into you're head are much easier to write than those that you plan to write. This little bump in the road of GSR (and you know there must be plenty of them) is from Grissom's line in 6x03 Bite Me. Parts of conversation were inspired by an experience with a very sweet (but now ex-) boyfriend, however all dialog is made up and nothing belongs to me. Alas, I live too much inside my head.**

*******************

A knock on the door surprised Sara as she was searching in the back of a cupboard for something that could be made to resemble a human meal. She went to the door and looked out the peephole. Grissom was standing outside, shifting from foot to foot and looking nervous. Her mind froze for a second in shock at his uncharacteristic action before she remembered the details that probably brought him there. Anger flushed her face and lent strength to her voice. "Go away!"

***

_6 hours earlier_

"Hey, Grissom," she called as they were exiting their vehicles after returning from the scene. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

They had been collecting evidence for the past several hours and would have to spend a few more processing it. He was already exhausted and wanted nothing more than a hot shower and hotter coffee before going back to work. He waited for her reluctantly. "Yes, what is it Sara?"

He became more apprehensive when she stopped walking a few feet away from him instead of continuing the conversation as they went into the lab. "I'm just curious," she said, looking directly at him in that disconcerting way she had, "have I done something to upset you? Recently I mean."

"No," he replied, puzzled. "Why do you ask?"

"Well I just assumed. I mean, I want you to tell me if something isn't working for you Grissom, but at a crime scene? That just isn't fair, and you're generally a very fair person, so I figured that—" Her mouth twisted suddenly. "You know what? Forget I asked. I'm always overanalyzing."

Sensing that something would be slipping through his fingers if he let her walk away, he held up his hands. "Wait!" She looked at him curiously and he continued. "It isn't that you've done anything Sara. It's just—well, it's just that it's you, but—"

Anger quickly followed hurt on her face. "Just forget it Grissom," she snapped. "I get it."

As he watched her retreating back, Grissom marveled at himself. He had never met anyone who could make a bad situation worse as quickly as he could just by trying to save it. Except perhaps Sara. He sighed in frustration. They made quite a pair.

***

He took a deep breath and knocked on her door. He had come here under worse circumstances, he reminded himself as he listened to her approaching footsteps. He just needed an opportunity to explain. The footsteps stopped. There was a beat of silence and then her voice drifted through the door. "Go away!"

So much for an opportunity to explain. He would just have to make do.

"I'm sorry Sara, but I can't do that. I owe you an explanation."

"You don't owe me anything." The hurt in her voice was so obvious that he wanted to kick himself. Instead, he ignored her statement.

"I'm an idiot," he called. Silence. "So you're just going to have to forgive me for not complying with your request. If I'm not smart enough to do what you ask when you're right, I'm certainly not going to do it when you're wrong."

"That doesn't even make sense Grissom." She sounded frustrated. Good, that was an improvement over hurt.

"I know. I should listen to Catherine more. She told me once to always say exactly what you're trying to say from the beginning, instead of starting with a statement that could be taken to mean the opposite."

"So you didn't mean to say that I haven't done anything wrong and am just fundamentally flawed? What are you trying to say?"

"At the moment?" He sighed. "I'm trying to say that I should have taken the common sense approach instead of trying for the poetic one. Maybe then I wouldn't have lost the privilege of talking to your face instead of your door."

To his surprise, the lock clicked and the door opened. She looked very tired and breakable. He wanted to hold her, but he had a feeling that the only thing that might get him at the moment was a trip to the hospital. "It isn't a privilege," she said quietly. "It's a basic right of fairness, not making people shout at doors. Sorry for my momentary lapse."

He shook his head. "Understandable."

She turned away from the door and walked back into her apartment, wordlessly giving him permission to enter. It wasn't an invitation with open arms, but it wasn't a slap on the face either and he took it gratefully. She stood in the kitchen and he shut the door behind himself and tried for the third time.

"I'm only asking for a chance to finish what I was trying to say. After that you may throw me out and I won't try to stop you."

She nodded mutely and he continued.

"When I said that it's you, I meant that it's the effect that who you are has on me. Has always had on me. I was thinking about you last night. I think that I must think about you all the time, but this was different. We were at work, at a crime scene, and I panicked. I confused them with us and we're completely different, even at first glance. You aren't suffocating me. The reason I can't breathe is because I'm drowning in you Sara. Not because of anything you've done, but because you are you. Because I can't imagine any situation, or world even, in which we both exist and I'm not completely in love with you. And that terrifies me," he finished quietly.

Through the course of his speech, her face had changed from closed, to furious, to thoughtful. Now it was almost tender. She relaxed her stance slightly, looking out the window as she spoke. "You feel as if you're losing yourself into them, and it's wonderful. But you're afraid because you don't know if when it's over, there will still be a _you_ to go back to. And you think that the only possible outcome is for it to end eventually because you don't have a clue what you're doing. You're lost. You feel like you're stumbling around in the dark with your shoelaces tied together."

"Yes," he breathed.

"The thing is Griss, I'm just as blind as you are, and my shoelaces are hopelessly knotted too." She came toward him. "When it seems like you're drowning in something that's hopelessly beyond your control, all you have to do is reach out," she held out her hand palm up, and he took it, lacing their fingers together, "and my hand will be there."


End file.
